


Wrong things for right reasons

by Matarreyes



Series: Of Death and Life [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Also - Skyeward, Graphic Violence, People die and are resurrected, Still a fixit that fixes everything, This is a much darker installment, dark!crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matarreyes/pseuds/Matarreyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death had warned Skye about what would happen if SHIELD didn't leave it be, but Coulson haven't been a wise man even before becoming a crazied killer. Now Death is out to teach him a lesson, and it just had to drag Ward into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong things for right reasons

**Author's Note:**

> A much darker installment but, as before, worth it for the little something in the end ;).
> 
> Also, makes no sense whatsoever if you haven't read "And Death flipped a coin" first.

Skye shows up at the safehouse without the protocol warning call. Coulson just wakes up one morning, goes through his stretching routine, changes out of his pajama pants, secures his new hand to his wrist… And she´s suddenly right there. She´s paler than he remembers and won´t quite meet his eyes, but the message she brings him is clear.  
Death is gone and isn´t coming back.

It´s not that Coulson isn´t overjoyed at hearing this. Of course he is. He hasn´t been enjoying his forced retirement in the slightest, but the greater good and SHIELD´s personnel wellbeing has always been the supreme consideration for him. So when Skye tells him, somewhat curtly, that he can come home, he´s glad. And yet… The choice of words and the weariness she utters them with alerts him. Can. Like she´s giving him permission, almost. Like she´s been considering whether she wanted to welcome her own Director back. Coulson had had Mack appointed Director because of many different considerations, and he knows perfectly well why he hasn´t once thought about Skye. She´s too soft, to gullible. Coulson has done his best to harden her to the realities of post–Hydra uprising world, but the change is slow. Painful for her. And there is still so much she must learn first.

He takes her word for it somewhat reluctantly, since Skye won´t offer any explanation as to what happened that had made the Inhuman disappear. The sightings stopped, but this doesn’t mean much in Coulson´s opinion- it could even signal that the thing is readying itself to strike. But Skye believes that it´s gone, and she´d probably made Mack believe it, too, and so Coulson must come back if only to get the reins back and see firsthand what´s going on.

One month after, he´s gathered enough background info to be sure that Skye has had an encounter with It without anyone else present. He hates to think of her as compromised, but this thing has gone around wearing Ward´s face, so it stands to reason it could have harmed Skye and taken her body… While personally unbearable, professionally it´s too scary to even think about. Coulson lures her into one of the Inhuman containment boxes, closes the door and personally interrogates her for three hours. She´s unbelieving first, than fuming, that betrayed and angry. She repeats once and again that some secrets are better left well buried, and is heartbroken when every refusal to talk and every argument are met with Coulson´s heavy silence. The interrogation is exhausting because he loves Skye as a daughter, but this must be done for her own good.

Coulson steels his heart and presses on. 

“I cannot know it you´re not It,” he repeats over and over, in order to straighten his resolve. 

“Of course you can. It´s freaking obvious. We knew it wasn´t Ward the second we laid eyes on him,” she stubbornly retorts. “It doesn´t have the same emotions.”

Skye´s knowledge of It only makes Coulson angrier at the breach of trust and all the more determined. It´s a long day, but by the end she´s in tears sitting on the floor and he´s tracing the whereabouts of a baby. It´s not exactly difficult. Half an hour in, SHIELD has the faces of the two young parents on their screens, and all of their credit card information. They are vacationing at some kind of family friendly natural resort right in the middle of nowhere. 

Everyone frowns, and once again it´s up to Coulson to make the hard call as required of a Director. 

“We´ll never have a better chance at this,” he says. The region is remote and shielded, and if they have to minimize the collateral damage they´ll be wise to strike before the thing reaches populated areas again. 

“How sure are we that it´s this Death thing and not a real baby?” Mack asks.

The answer, while heartbreaking, is clear enough. A being with enough power to end humanity makes for high enough stakes that it doesn´t really matter.

They attempt to empty the resort through some creative hacking of the electricity feeds that leave rooms with no light and no air conditioning, and hope that enough guests will choose to go hiking due to this. The plan is simple – destroy the host´s body once it´s far enough from any other potential vessels. Prevent it from entering a new body, then isolate the area and wipe it out with one of Fitz´ new anti Inhuman weapons. Skye wants to take point of the operation, but she´s a known face. Coulson sends in a trusted specialist to mix with the vacationers.

Ten minutes in, his comm. comes to life.

“Hey, Director?”

Coulson grips the other comm.

“Yes.”

“You should come down here asap,“ the man says. 

“Have you located…”

“Yes. It´s dead. All guests are dead, just lying scattered here and there,” says the voice, and it´s sounding entirely too cheerful for this announcement. “I´m dead too, just so you know…” It actually snorts. It´s a short ugly sound that promises more ugly sounds. 

Coulson´s grip on the comm. is so strong, the thing is in danger of being splintered in two. His teeth make an audible snap. 

“What have you done?”

“Me? Tsk tsk tsk. What have you done, Director. Come here and see… and bring her, by the way.”

Coulson´s entire body is a coil of anger, posed to strike at the first opportunity. He walks slowly, and Skye does the same to the right of him. All guests are indeed dead – these who stepped out of the building and these who stayed inside. There are no marks on them, no blood splats, just eerie stillness and silence. Entire families lie in circles near each other. The scene is remindful of one of Dante´s seven circles. 

“You need to let me speak,” says Skye. She hasn´t said much at all, and it´s a good thing. Coulson knows that she is angry and upset with him, but emotions have no place in such a dangerous and uncertain situation. Silence and obedience are the marks of a good operative, and he´s pleased to learn that despite all, she´s still one. They don´t have time for whimsy emotions, this is not how this war is fought.

“Coulson, I mean this. Let me speak.”

Well… She´d talked this creature into hiding once, so she gets points for this. 

“We´ll see,” he says as they walk up to the entrance of the building, wondering what they´ll find. 

Skye doesn’t have the time to formulate an answer. She stumbles on the entrance steps and falls clumsily. Her head hits the wood with a dry sound. Her head bobs to the side, and Coulson sees a nail coming one inch out of a wooden plank. It´s covered in blood. There is a small round hole in Skye´s left temple. A loose strand of hair sticks to it.

A second passes while Coulson can´t respond – this is too out of the blue and too unnatural. He leans over her, and she slowly stirs. Sits with her hair tumbling over her face. Shakes her head. Stands. A single drop of blood slides slowly from her temple toward her neck. Her eyes are cold and angry. Skye´s eye have recently held anger many times, but they were never cold. She cracks her neck, and there is something slithering under her skin. 

She – It – takes a moment to look around. Coulson´s gun comes up, but he can´t bring himself to shoot. The face in front of him is too familiar. By the time he´s told himself that it´s not her (and what this means, he can´t even start to process) the thing smiles, and he promptly realizes just how futile shooting it would be.

“Phil Coulson”, the creature with Skye´s face says. “Well well well… You know, she holds you in such a high regard, the sheer ridiculousness of it is suffocating.” 

“What do you want,” Coulson says, metallic hand closing in rage. 

“What do I…” it laughs. “I wanted to be left in peace. She told you so, and yet you came after me.” 

She did, and she was wrong. She´d thought that a newborn wasn´t a threat, but this development shows otherwise. It´s not the time to discuss this though.

“Now I am here. Let the others and Skye go.”

“Make no mistake, it was her secret. She´s just as much to blame. I manages to make her understand, but you changed her mind just as you always do. I bet you told her that one meager building full of dead was better than an entire planet.” It goes silent, looking at Skye´s memories, and laughs again. “Yes, you told her so. A nice and moving speech. You wholeheartedly believe this, don´t you? Doing the wrong thing for the right reason. So eager to heroically sacrifice your conscience in the service of a greater good, right?” 

“Yes,” says Coulson, because this? This he believes unconditionally, and no infernal creature will ever be able to take it from him. He´s ready sacrifice everything to the greater good. Including himself. He´s dreamed of it since forever. A Captain America kind of sacrifice, a leader going down with his plane.

“Well, come in and have a seat. We shall examine this fascinating belief more closely.” The creature guffaws with the kind of frosty glee that makes dark fairytales pale in comparison. It turns around and goes inside. It moves around with Skye´s grace and self assuredness, heeding none of the bodies laid out on the floor. Coulson follow, doesn´t move one inch. He won’t capitulate to mass murderers. 

The creature looks back. 

“Would it help you feel heroic if I told you that you´ll be given a chance to bring all these poor souls back to life?”

After this promise, Coulson trails behind Death to the back of the reception. At a throwaway movement of its hand he´s made to sit in a corner. The thing that´s taken Skye´s light away from her eyes procures a tablet and a phone. It checks some things, and Coulson can only look on as its fingers fly over secret commands with the nimbleness of an experienced hacker. 

It finds a number by tracing a credit card trail and hacking a phone company. Dials happily and doesn´t wait for the recipient to speak up.

“Hey Grant?” it says into the phone. “Skye and her boss have fucked up, you have an hour to present yourself to the following coordinates.”

The hour goes by in complete silence. The creature is very occupied making good use of Skye´s computer skills. Soon enough, all SHIELD´s servers are open and on display for this infernal thing. Death sits on a small sofa with its legs crossed, sipping a soda and balancing the tablet on its knees, just as Skye always does. The leak is horrifying, and Skye´s fate as carrier of this disease is unbearable, but they’ll fix this. They always have managed to fix everything. 

Coulson is taken away from his furious dark musings by measured steps. He looks up and sure enough, there is Grant Ward entering the building. He´s in civil clothes, a faded pair of dark jeans and a black henley, with a gun tucked in the back almost as an afterthought. He isn´t posed to fight, and he takes in the dead bodies all around him rather steadily.  
Coulson drills holes into the traitor´s face, wondering what kind of unholy alliance he´s been striking with that thing. Ward comes up to the not-Skye. He only stops when he´s very close – closer than Coulson has ever come to the creature. He takes in the hole in the creature´s – Skye´s – temple and the blood drying on its side, reaches into his pocket and offers a handkerchief silently. 

The creature accepts and dibs at the blood trail. 

“They screwed up,” it announces scathingly. “I gave you all a goddamn present and they screwed up.”

Ward doesn’t act surprised. He´s somber and weary, and seems perfectly aware of the power of that thing. Having had it inside must have given him a certain perspective about how it works. He isn’t scared of not-Skye, but he´s completely unwilling to even try to fight it. 

“What can I do?” he simply says.

“Nothing,” growls not Skye. “This isn´t about you at all.”

It jumps to action, coming to stay in from of Coulson. 

“Wrong thing for a good reason, that´s what you do. That´s what you´re proud of. Fine. Go on then. You´re the hero, and here´s your monster. Destroy him once again, and I’ll let everyone go.”

Coulson looks at it without understanding. 

“He has nothing to do with our situation,” he says. Skye had insisted that Ward´s memories hadn´t been restored fully and that he should be left alone, and while Coulson hadn´t planned on doing it, he´d of course concentrated on the creature first.

“Of course not. He´s simply a convenient example, and will help us illustrate your overall approach to their kind. Also, you´ve already killed him once. A second time cannot be very different.”

Coulson grimaces and looks at Ward sideways. The man is very quiet for somebody who is being set up to fight against his one time killer.

“Does he even know what he´s done?” Coulson wonders.

Not-Skye´s face brightens in delight. 

“No, but that´s easily solvable. Should I? Of course I should. He won’t be a proper monster to be vanquished if he´s not aware of the reason for his punishment.” It saunters up to Ward and puts a hand on his chest. Punches just a little, quite theatrically, and the man gasps breathlessly as if all air had gone from his lungs. “There, all set. He now remembers. Don’t mind him, it´ll take a little to process. But then again, this isn´t about him. It´s all about you, so listen carefully. The thing you have to do to make this right is to destroy him. For every bone you break in Grant Ward´s body, I´ll let a person that your actions killed walk free.”

Coulson feels sick. This is a spiteful game to it. Skye had tried to tell him. Had talked about ancient knowledge mixed with impatience and meanness, about transcendence and rebirth and petty devil tricks. He hadn´t listened, and now this… this thing with Skye´s face is smiling gleefully because it has him pinned.

He must really go through with this, it dawns on him. He must do all he can, fight with the best he´s got. His robot hand flexes in determination. Coulson goes over the easiest and most useful attacks: ribs, hands and face. If he plays this right, he´ll be able to get in a good number of punches and save a good number of people. He looks Ward´s way again, remembering to gun the traitor is packing, and is surprised to notice that Ward´s still pretty much out of sorts himself. He is frowning a little, still trying to make sense of all the new memories Death has just given back to him. Coulson is all set to get advantage of his momentous distraction and take possession of the gun, but then Death speaks again.

“Grant? Did you hear us?”

“Yeah.” 

“Everything clear? Any questions?”

The traitor visibly shakes himself and turns to Coulson. 

“You didn’t hurt Thomas, did you?” he asks, and for a second Coulson has to take stock of what exactly he´s asking. He shakes his head once, never taking his eyes off his opponent. He´s waiting for the moment Ward finally realizes what´s exactly being set up here, and reacts accordingly. 

“Well, all is set it seems. And just for the heck of it, I hereby promise to give the girl back when all is done… And I´ll erase all images of the gruesome outcome of our game, provided you both manage to do this completely wordlessly.” 

This is a worthy offer. This creature is so Skye-like that Coulson has trouble remembering that she´s technically gone. To have her come back and to spare her the ghastly visuals will be a blessing. Coulson will have no problem doing his unpleasant duty, but he still cringes at the idea that she´ll see him doing it. It was bad enough with Fitz. Skye is another matter altogether. 

He nods, and in the same movement turns around to lunge at Ward, only to see him extending the gun toward him, handle first. The look on the man´s face says everything his mouth isn´t allowed.

He hasn´t even thought about fighting Coulson. 

Coulson´s heart skips a beat, and a wave of heat crawls up his neck. His heart rate had risen in anticipation of the fight, but now he´s completely paralyzed. He can´t even extend his hand to take the gun away from Ward. His thoughts scatter trying to make sense of this sudden development.

This isn´t going to be a furious and even fight. It´s going to be a brutal and drawn out execution.

Ward shrugs, and proceeds to carefully lay down the weapon. He then flexes his hands briefly, looks down at himself, takes the jacket and the watch off. When he comes back to stand in front of Coulson he´s barefoot and somber, mouth set in a tight firm line. Coulson has no insight into his thoughts but the situation doesn´t seem all that new to the man. He just stays there, not even looking at his former boss directly but simply staring at one of the buttons of Coulson´s shirt, and waits. 

This creature is sick, wants to say Coulson. It played us all. It set us up. I won´t enjoy this despite everything.

He says nothing at all. Death has known exactly what Ward would do, and it had set its trap accordingly. Coulson bites his lip, closes his human fist and punches hard twice. Ward´s head snaps to the right with the first strike, going with the blow in a practiced way and sparing himself the worst of it. The second hit, he meets head on. Blood starts to flow from a badly split lip, which he doesn´t bother to touch. He just rights himself and waits for the next blow to fall.

Coulson hits him again, face and then ribs, and it´s only at third or fourth attempt that he gets any bones cracked. It´s one thing to do this while enraged or meeting opposition. It´s quite another to deliver punishment on an unresisting man. He´s a monster, Coulson tells himself. If Ward had known to ask about his brother, he knows exactly what he´s done to everyone. This isn´t truly different from what Coulson did back on that planet. More extended in time, more intimate now that Coulson´s body feels the exhaustion of the hits, but it´s not different. Grant Ward deserves to die. Isn´t this what even Death had wanted?

He hits him once again, struggling to hold on his rage. He punches and hits and kicks, and then he´s panting wildly and Ward is kneeling at his feet. The sounds Ward makes while catching air are wet and ragged. He looks up as soon as Coulson stops and painfully gets back up to his feet. Coulson cringes a little at how slow and painful his movements are. He is actually trying to give the younger man a second to gather his bearings, but in absence of any understanding between them, he heeds Ward´s cue and goes at it again. Ward is right. It´s better to end this quickly. Coulson he has the feeling that once he stops and breathes, he won´t be able to start again. 

The entire situation just gets worse and worse until it´s downright hideous. Ward falls to his knees again and this time he doesn´t try to get up. He won´t even look up from the floor. His shoulders are shaking, and Coulson stops and reaches to him to steady the man and pull him up.

Ward reacts violently, twisting away from his grip. Coulson´s on high alert immediately. He tells himself that Ward is a fighter. He might put up a good front for a while, but he isn´t going to allow himself be beaten to death without resisting. Coulson should still be very careful…

The actual truth is that he mostly feels relief. This will be so much easier if Ward´s fighting back. 

Instead of fighting, the man leans further down and heaves once and again, the sound of it mixed with subdued grunts of pain as his broken ribs grate in his chest. Blood and bile splatter on the floor. Even when the worst is over the man stays down, panting and trembling and not quite there. He takes breath after breath, and a full minute passes before he manages in a hoarse, dry voice. “Huh. Sorry.” 

He´s talking about ruining Coulson´s tactical shoes, which are now level with his eyes, and the incongruence of it makes Coulson miss the true significance of what just happened. Ward gets with the program quicker than him and proceeds to swear colorfully under his breath.

“This thing is sick,” Coulson says, because now that Death “no words” rule is broken, he wants this off his chest. Whatever bad blood is between them, he doesn’t want Ward to think that he enjoys this. He isn´t a vicious bastard. He only does this because it´s for the greater good. “This goddamn thing is the epitome of evil.”

Ward doesn’t seem interested in discussing Death´s moral stand. He just lays there with his eyes closed and waits, grateful for the respite. 

“I don’t enjoy this,” Coulson insists. “But I will do it. I have to.”

Again, no obvious reaction. Well, no. There is a harsh little laugh, the sound of it mocking and discouraging. 

“Me letting you go at it isn’t enough?” Ward drawls. “You want my signed blessing?”

Yes, he does. He wants to hear the man say he understands what´s going on. He wants Ward to tell him the there is indeed no other choice, that he´s doing the right thing. He wants to hear Ward absolve him, tell him that he´s still the hero and not… Not… 

Coulson´s unsteady on his feet. He feels as weak as Ward looks now, and he´s panting just as hardly. He delivers yet another kick, and before his foot connects he already knows it´s too weak an effort to break anything. Ward´s entire body convulses in soundless pain nonetheless. The next kick Coulson delivers goes against the wall. He kicks at it and hits it with his hands, leaving bloody handprints. He lets out a scream. He hits his head once. None of it makes him feel better. 

He finds Death sitting in the restaurant, engrossed in the internet, a cocktail at its lips. 

“You done?” It says.

“Yes,” he pants. “No. No more.” 

It puts the glass aside and cocks its head again – its signature gesture Skye never used to make.

“You sure? Should I go evaluate your handiwork?”

“Stop this!” he screams.

“Oh wait, your handiwork is all right here… Take a good look!”

It points at a big decorative mirror on the far wall. Coulson steps up to it slowly, and when he gets to see what not-Skye sees he lets out a wail. The man he sees has bloodshot crazy eyes, sweaty and tangled hair, and blood smeared everywhere. His shirt will never be white again. The expression is the worst of all, though. He has the look of a mad fanatic, a delusional and wild fiend.

He'd already understood that he wasn't a hero. He didn't understand yet what he was. 

Not-Skye steps up behind him. The all consuming anger is finally gone from her beautiful eyes. The creature looks solemn now, wise beyond any human age. Understanding. Almost sad. 

“A monster, yes," it whispers in his ear. "The only outcome of doing the wrong thing for the right reason can ever offer you. 

He feels the shame close up his throat, twist the heart out of him, annihilate him, but he's not done yet.

“The thing about Ward is, he´s done his share of awful things, yes. He´s just a man, though. One traitor among, what, several hundred infiltrated Hydra soldiers? You, though… You were an idea, Phil. Embodiment of dignify, of dedication, wisdom and compassion. And in less than two years you allowed yourself to become… This. This pitiful thing you see right now.”

“Please…” 

“Please what?”

“I can´t… I will do anything, but not that… Please… I will do anything…”

“Anything?” it repeats sadly. “You haven´t learned at all. The young girl understood way better.”

Coulson shudders. He can´t do this. He can´t think, he can´t talk to this thing, he can´t look at himself, he just… He can´t. He turns around and runs. 

Ward is still in the same position Coulson left him. The wounded man is slumping tiredly against the wall, half laying and half sitting. Despite everything, he tries to stand when he realizes the direction in which Coulson´s steadfastly heading. 

“Don´t you dare,” he growls angrily, and coughs more blood up for his effort. “This isn´t over yet. This isn´t about you. Don´t you dare take the easy way out.”

Coulson can´t stand to listen. The safety of the forgotten gun comes off, and the last sound out of his lips is a hysterical laugh. He´d have never guessed that the final words he´d hear in his life would be spoken by Grant Ward. 

“You goddamned coward.”

***

He´s back just as suddenly as he went out. Between one moment and the next there is exactly zero time, events or memories. He´s sitting in his chair, in his own office at the SHIELD base. He feels perfectly fine, if very disoriented.

“..many political accomplishments, but on a personal level this host was becoming simply unbearable,” he hears Fitz´s voice say. Sure enough, the petite Scottish genius is sitting in a chair in front of him, absently playing with Coulson´s favorite Captain America figure. He stops speaking and tilts his head to the right in Death´s telltale gesture. “This guy is clever, wow. No offense to others but, he´s on a completely different level.”

There is a neat little hole in Fitz´ temple, Coulson sees. Coulson´s own hand is gripping the still warm weapon. The year is 2016. Months have passed.

“I thought you had a United Nations meeting in a week,” says Skye. She´s reclining in a chair to Coulson´s left, boots on the table. 

“I do,” not-Fitz agreeably nods. “And I´ll go back into good old Phil´s body for that occasion. Also, now that I finally understand what this guy Fitz had been trying to tell us for a week, he was completely right. That nuclear power station in the Goby desert is highly suspicious. I want to personally take a look over this weekend. Grant, you´ll be my ride. If you have plans, cancel them.”

Ward is neither sitting down nor defiling Coulson´s collectibles, but the sheer fact that he´s there and he´s at ease is enough to have Director´s eyes bulging.

“Fuck you,” is the insightful thing he says.

Skye sends him a look that seems to be placating.

“He doesn’t know,” she says in a stage whisper.

“He knows,” Ward winces. “Yesterday wasn´t the first time that we talked.”

“You asked me out before yesterday and didn´t realize it wasn´t me?” she sounds scandalized.

“Excuse me for concentrating on your possible reaction and not the fact whether you were, you know, you!” 

“Then I concur. Fuck you so very much,” Skye tells not-Fitz. “We need some basic rules, you guys. Weekend possessions are to be planned in advance. And if find out that I´m kissing the wrong being, I´ll flip and bring this base down on your heads.” 

Through all of this, Coulson sits quietly and wonders if maybe Skye could bring the base down a bit sooner. The situation is surreal as it is, but the fact that people in his office seem to be perfectly cool with it is even weirder. The otherworldly cruelty of the creature is fresh on his mind, and yet here it is, allowing Ward to openly complain and Skye to pretty much boss it around. The last drop is the fact that both Skye and Ward seem to be pleased to welcome Fitz into their selected dead-but-resurrected circle.

“We will discuss a schedule promptly,” the creature concedes. “The four of you might yet become one of my best horsemen across all ages, lack of apocalyptical imagery notwithstanding. I wonder though, now that I´m in Fitz´s mind... Four is of course the customary number, but flexibility never hurt anyone… This Simmons lady seems to be incredibly remarkable.”

**Author's Note:**

> +1 headcanon: when Ward grumbles that the customary number is still four, goddamit, and why do the have to put up with Coulson on the team again, Skye points out that Phil is a very handy vessel to put Death into for when they want to go on a OT4 Skyeward & Fitzsimmons date


End file.
